Page 126 of Rather: The Therapist

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m not trying to get shot, Rather.”

“If I wanted to shoot you, you’d be shot. I mean that… from the bottom of my heart.”

It wasn’t until we reached the room where Princeton was waiting that I let her go. She was amused and so was I. Before she made her way into the classroom, she stopped at the door’s threshold.

Smitten by the woman before me, I blew a kiss in her direction. Again, those big eyes rolled as she shook her head. Her cheeks fluffed and her teeth peered from behind her lips.

I made a mental note to cancel my father’s future pickups. I was now responsible for therapy on Tuesdays at two o’clock. Everything I was trying to avoid by giving him the task was transpiring. It wasn’t shit I could do about it. It wasn’t shit I was trying to do about it either.

Fuck I’m supposed to do with myself? I asked for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

I hadn’t quite thought my plan through. I neglected to acknowledge the fact I would be useless for a full hour while Princeton was in therapy. Now, as I sat on the living room couch, I couldn’t keep still.

Doors. The doors.

I nodded, springing from my seat and heading for the first door in sight that led to the outside. It only took a few seconds for me to get a good look at the screw and determine it was one of the smaller ones that wouldn’t stand a chance against a raid or someone’s heavy foot. I was certain if this lock was held in place by the small screw, the others were, too.

The kitchen was my next stop. I searched every drawer to find where she kept screws of any kind, screwdrivers, or anything remotely close. I didn’t find anything. The garage beckoned for me. I followed my intuition and quickly stumbled upon an unopened toolkit. I brought the sorted screws and screwdrivers of all sizes inside. I only needed one, but the kit wasn’t opened so I had to bring them all in.

The first lock was changed in a matter of two minutes. The second was her patio door. It didn’t give me any trouble either. I made my way down the hall toward the bedroom that led to the pool on the other side of the house. It was a second master suite, I assumed. Possibly an in-law suite.

I passed the room where Princeton and Rather were seated in the large comfortable loveseat. An oversized book was in her hands and she was reading each word with theatrics that matched. Briefly, I paused, taking in the view.

Exactly what she was giving him was all Princeton wanted. It was all he needed. Someone to nourish his mind and tap into his emotions… and not just anyone. It had to be someone he viewed in a specific regard. Someone he saw in the same light as he did Lola. Someone he associated with the person he was missing. A woman. A mother.

Sensing my presence, Rather peeped her head over the large publication. I was reminded of hers. She’d do well. I was convinced. And, however I could, I would assist her.

No words were exchanged. I continued down the hallway to finish the job I’d started. One by one, I changed the screws of every lock in her home. By the time I finished the final one on her front door, she was rounding the corner. I checked the time on my watch. Princeton still had ten minutes of therapy left.

“Is everything okay?”

“He’s asleep.”

“He was tired on the way over. I’m not surprised.”

I’d broken a sweat and was out of my button down. Rather’s lingering eyes jogged my memory. I had forgotten my shirt was on the back of her couch. We stood face to face, unmoving and silent.

Rather was a complete mind fuck. I found it hard to believe she didn’t know it. She was a therapist. The Therapist. She was well aware of it.

“Why didn’t you call?” Her words gutted me.

The vulnerability leaped out, snatching my soul and heart in its quest for relevancy.

“Rather, I–”

“I don’t like missing you,” she grumbled, “That’s what you told me.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Then, you sucked at showing me this week.”

She lodged a fist in my heart. I searched for words. They’d gone missing.

The only thing I could conjure was, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology, Priest. I want you to understand how I feel. I want you to understand what’s happening here.”

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